All In One Piece
by DanielleH
Summary: After a year, John is still struggling to move on with his life. Little does he know, the detective is alive. And watching. One-shot. AU


John stood at his best friends grave. He cast his gaze downwards and shuffled his feet a bit. It had been a year since he had lost his companion. And he had visited the grave every day, ever since. John was trying to move on, but he was finding it to be even more difficult than he ever imagined. He sighed. The doctor knelt down on one knee and laid an array of roses on top of the stone.

"I'll always believe in you, Sherlock" he whispered.

John marched away, back to 221b Baker Street.

..

Sherlock watched the scene, hidden behind a tree. He examined John's features, analyzing his every move. The doctor was clearly heartbroken. The man had never expected John to be affected so greatly. He hadn't realized how deeply the man cared for him.

During the year that Sherlock had disappeared, he began searching for the rest of Moriarty's men. There were many loopholes that needed to be cut. And so he had explored everywhere around the world, eliminating every knot, until there were no more to be found. Every single string was gone.

Of course, this was not a very easy task. He needed to be cautious. It is precisely why it took him so long. He only had himself, and him alone to do the job.

The man could have invited Irene to assist, with her seductive intelligence. His brother, Mycroft, could have easily called in his men. But Moriarty's henchmen were cunning and almost as brilliant as the man himself. All of them would have been caught and killed easily. Although, this was Sherlock's point of view.

Sherlock, the consulting detective, had solved so many cases, and had helped so many people when they were in need. The truth was that they would have gladly aided the man whenever he wished.

And John...how he wish he could tell him. However, keeping John safe was the number one priority. He couldn't risk John, the only friend he had in the world, getting killed. And that's particularly the main reason why he vanished. The second reason was that he didn't wish for anyone else to be harmed in the process, if only himself.

..

John sat alone in his flat. Everything had changed so quickly when Sherlock jumped. The consulting detective was so famous, that whenever John was out, random people spotted him and scurried up to say 'comforting words.'

Most of them questioned him, asking if 'he was alright' and if 'he needed anything.' Then they proceeded to create a speech that involved words similar to 'It's not your fault' and 'You'll get through it.' Soon, after a few months, most of them would ignore the doctor, and just move on. But he hadn't. Not quite. And after a year, he was still holding on.

But today...today was a bit different. His therapist recommended that he try to stay at the flat, and not to visit the grave. To try and 'experiment a little.' And so John did as he was told. Except, John couldn't stay inside. The flat held too many memories.

Sighing, John stood up from his chair that he had been sitting in for the past two hours. He headed towards the door and stopped in his tracks. The doctor had almost forgotten something. Mumbling something unintelligible, he walked back and snatched his jacket from the couch.

Looking up, he caught a glimpse of an image on the wall above. The mark was in yellow paint, and it indicated the figure of a smiley-face.

John turned around quickly and scurried outside.

Closing the door behind him, John laid his head against it and closed his eyes. He couldn't keep on living like this. In 221b there were so many memories.

It had been one year, and he still hadn't moved on. Frustrated, John walked along the sidewalk. Lifting his arm up, he called for a cab.

..

Sherlock sat on a bench across from the flat. Obviously, he changed his appearance. Dyed hair, dark hoodie, and skinny jeans. The jeans felt a bit strange, since he rarely wore them. He would have to get familiar with the feeling.

Looking up from under the hood, he spotted John exit the flat and lean against the door. The doctor didn't look well.

As soon as John hailed a cab, Sherlock rose to his feet and crossed the street. The detective hadn't planned on getting his close, but he needed to make sure that the doctor was alright.

..

A stranger suddenly appeared in front of the doctor. If he wasn't paying attention, it would have given him quite a fright.

"Mind if we share? I'm in a bit of a rush" the man explained. "Oh, I'll pay" he said, noticing John's discomfort.

"Oh. Um..." John's eyebrows furrowed. He looked so familiar but he couldn't quite place it...Giving up, he replied "Alright." He tried to reassure the man by giving him a smile. But it wouldn't arrive.

The doctor and the detective entered the cab.

As soon as the driver put his foot on the gas the stranger asked "Erm, so where are you off to? I'll drop you off first."

John tried to look at the man but he couldn't. Right now, the doctor wanted to be alone. He didn't want any company. Especially not with a stranger. But, this man didn't really look like a stranger...'I must be going mad.' John shook his head clear of the thought.

Finally, John answered.

"Um.." He sweeped his eyes around the cab. The doctor was trying to come up with an excuse to where he was going. It was useless. The taxi was absolutely clean and there were no postcards, or pieces of garbage anywhere.

He sighed. It was foolish to lie to a complete stranger.

He turned to towards the man.

"Look...To be honest, I have no idea where I'm going. I just need to get out."

Sherlock kept on prodding the man.

"What's your name?"

"John Watson" he murmured.

The stranger pulled out his phone, pretending to check a text. He tutted loudly.

"Well, then Mr. Watson, I don't suppose you'd be willing to join me for lunch? My friend just texted me and said they won't be able to make it."

Well, that was one way to get out of the house.

"I'm Hamish, by the way." He extended his hand in what he hoped was a friendly gesture.

John thankfully shook the man's hand, grateful to be going somewhere.

"I would love to." He grinned.

Sherlock couldn't help himself from smiling in return.

"Where exactly are we headed?" John asked.

"Well, I hear there's a nice cafe about three blocks from here. I'm sort of new to the area. I'm only going by what my cousin told me."

"Sounds fantastic."

John then really 'looked at' Hamish. His features were so very familiar. The way he smiled was something that only he himself had seen a million times in the past. 'I'm going mad. Yes. That's it.'

The doctor blinked a few times. He figured this might be the feeling of moving forward...moving on. But seeing someone familiar in a complete stranger? That was a bit odd.

Sherlock noticed John examining him. His cover couldn't be blown. Not yet.

Hamish frowned slighty.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Watson? It's just...I can't help but notice the way you're looking at me. I haven't got toothpaste on my face or something?" He laid a hand over his face, trying to hide his face without being too obvious. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

Oh dear.

"Erm, no." He laughed nervously. "Sorry, you just look so familiar. You look like someone I used to know."

Sherlock tried not to show signs of relief.

"Oh. Mind if I ask who I look like? I hope it's not someone you dislike. That wouldn't be a very good first impression" he joked.

John wasn't sure if he should mention it. It might not be a great idea. What does it matter though? He's just trying to be a bit friendly...

Sighing, he said: "You look like one of my old friends, Sherlock Holmes."

The detective forced a frown.

"Oh, I heard about that. He was the bloke who jumped from the hospital, right? I'm sorry. I heard you two were close." He looked down at his jeans, feeling uncomfortable.

"Yes, we were" John replied. He smiled and then the smile turned upside-down. Memories. Too many memories. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to forget.

Instantly, John put on his mask that Sherlock had taught him and smiled.

Sherlock started picking at his jeans absently. He was trying to ignore the fact that John had learnt to make his face stoic. He didn't want that to happen to John. It was the one thing he admired about him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the doctor was an emotional man, and his emotions were part of his charm.

John cleared his throat and tried to change the topic.

"So what did you say your cousins' name was?" The doctor avoided eye contact, realizing that he might have been looking creepy.

"I didn't." He paused for a second. "I doubt you would know her. Her name is Molly."

"Molly, you say?" John twisted his head an inch. It has to be a coincidence. It has to be...The mask returned.

"Sounds like a nice name. So what parts are you from, Hamish?"

"Er, yes. I'm from around here, actually. I moved to Scotland when I was young."

"Oh that's a good place" John replied absently. He turned his head and looked back out the window.

His thoughts were on his best friend, Sherlock. He kept on finding ridiculous coincidences that connected him with the detective. The doctor was trying desperately hard to make a new friend, but he found it to be extremely difficult. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be...

John looked back at the man.

"Yes, me and Sherlock were quite close. In a way, I completed him, and he completed me. We were almost like brothers. If he were to ever appear again, just by some supernatural event, illusion, or strange fantasy, I would say that I'm sorry." He sighed and closed his eyes. "Now that he's gone...I don't know what I'll do." Then the doctor twisted his head back towards the window.

Sherlock hung his head slightly. He hadn't realized that this would have been so difficult. He really didn't expect John to open up either.

He licked his lips and reached over to touch John's arm lightly.

"I really am sorry for your loss, Mr. Watson." He struggled, trying to find the right words. Why was this so hard? "I lost a very close friend of mine as well. It was what made me come back to London. He was my best friend."

John gently looked away from the window and towards the man's face. Those eyes. Those green eyes...They were so very familiar. Those eyes glared at him when they had a 'drug's bust.' Those eyes smiled at him when they solve a case. Those eyes comforted him when he had a bomb strapped to his chest. Those eyes cried when he fell.

"Sherlock?"

The detective quickly pulled away from John. Too soon. Too soon.

Sherlock forced a nervous laugh. "No, I'm sorry. Hamish, remember? Perhaps it's not the best idea for us to dine together. I'm afraid that I remind you of your friend too much. Apologies, that was not my intentions."

No. Now he was definitely sure that this was Sherlock. John was the only one who could see under the mask. See the unseen. John knew that his best friend was alive, and he wasn't going to let him go.

"No, Sherlock. I know it is you..." He leaned forward towards the man.

Hamish frowned and slowly shook his head.

"I'm telling you, I am not Sherlock. He jumped off of a roof of a building, remember? I saw it on the news and in the paper. No one could survive that."

Every word he spoke was killing him. He hated having to sit and look John in the face and like to him like this.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Watson."

John couldn't believe his ears.

"But...Sherlock. Please. Why would you do this? Why are you hiding?"

The man remained silent.

Sherlock swallowed, taking in every word that John threw at him. Each one of them hurt like a strike against his body. The detective had perfected the art of deceiving, so his mask did not break.

"At least tell me something!"

He searched the man's face. But all he noticed was fear. The man, Hamish, was truly afraid of the doctor.

John was seeing things that were not there...What had he become? A psychopath? Was he truly mad? He covered his face with his hands.

Sherlock watched John halt his questioning and conceal his face.

He placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder, comforting him.

"Mr. Watson, it's alright. I realize how difficult this must be. What you need right now is a mate. Do you have anyone you'd like me to phone?"

John gently pushed the hand away.

Sherlock frowned, but didn't object.

"No, it's fine. I'll be alright." John scooted up towards the end of the chair and prodded the driver. "Can you stop the cab, please?"

The driver did as he was asked and John opened the door.

"I thought we were going to have lunch together" Hamish exclaimed.

The doctor turned back around towards the man. "Me too. But...I just...I just have to move on. Apparently I haven't done that yet." He gave Hamish a crooked smile.

"I'm sorry." John shut the door and started walking down the street.

Sherlock sat, blinking in confusion as John closed the door in his face. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen.

"J-Mr. Watson, wait!" He scooted towards the driver, fumbling for a ten pound note before shoving it at the man.

Sherlock opened and door and jogged slightly to catch up with John.

The doctor was surprised that Hamish had decided to accompany him.

"I know you don't know me, but I think I understand what you're going through" Hamish pronounced. "I just want to help."

"How the bloody hell can you understand what I'm going through?" Irritated, John huffed.

Hamish eyes cast downwards and shuffled his feet.

John sighed and realized he was overreacting.

"Sorry, I'm just..." He sighed. "It's a bit hard, you know?"

Sherlock bit his lip, but nodded in agreement with John.

"As I said, I lost a very good friend. The best I've ever had. Actually, the only I've ever had. He was brilliant." He smiled a bit. While Sherlock was 'alive', he never really told John how amazing he was. In fact, he never told anyone. If he did, it was only to brag and show off. The detective never really appreciated how dear the doctor was to him until now.

John knew exactly what Hamish was describing. Hm. Maybe this man would be able to help him after all...

"So, I heard you came here recently. Is that correct?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Well, where are you staying?"

"I actually just arrived today. I figured since Molly is the only person I know around here, I would drop off at her place."

The first part of that phrase was true. Sherlock did appear in London today.

John shuffled his feet.

"Well...Actually, if you wouldn't mind...I would love to have another flatmate."

Sherlock was a bit surprised. He was certain that John would find out eventually. There was a short silence while Sherlock contemplated the idea.

John noticed his hesitance and added "If that's alright with you, of course." He laughed nervously, waiting for a response.

Moriarty's men were eliminated, and no one else had found out. If Sherlock were to pick the first person to discover he was alive, it would be John.

"How much is the rent?"

John truly smiled for the first time in a year.


End file.
